Actions Speak
by Deltana
Summary: People do crazy things when they’re in love and even crazier things when they’re rejected. Light RoyEd


**Disclaimer: FMA doesn't belong to me.**

_**Actions Speak-**_

He lay on the freezing pavement, unable to move or think and barely able to draw in each breath. Rain fell down steadily onto his already wet body. It pooled beneath him in a large puddle, sucking any remaining heat with every passing moment, smelling very much of clean. Clean, pure and wholesome, as if it were a healing element made to help.

Pain flared in his chest when he tried to sit up, causing him to flop back with arms spread out, straight at the shoulders, like a holy carving of an angel forsaken from heaven.

His flaxen hair, dulled by the water, strewn out around his head pillowed. Dark crimson began to bleed into and around him, soaking him more than the crying skies.

_It's cold_, he thinks with a hazy mind.

"It hurts," he whispers out to the auzure blanket overtop Central in a voice laced with something deeper than hurt.

Tears bloom in his closed eyes and he wonders why now of all times he can focus _only_ on dark eyes, pale skin, a light laugh and a husky baritone voice.

_People do crazy things when they're in love_, he supposes, _and even crazier things when they're rejected._

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He walks up to the mahogany desk slowly.

The dark head snaps up, out of the sleepy atmosphere and regards him curiously. He doesn't speak or aknowledge the other to continue.

Swallowing anxiousness, bile, mint flavoured piece of chewing gum, he openes his mouth and averts his gaze to the floor.

"I…" He hesitates at the intense stare being given to him.

Underneath the blunt nervous flush adorning his cheeks, he feels giddy. Happy in a way. Perhaps even excited.

"I… like you, Mustang," he says throatily but refuses to stop at a disbelieving gawk, "I **really **like you." His flush increases to a heated blush and he fears for his skin burning off.

Silence echoes in the sill room, though he stays quiet. He knows what he just admitted was quite the mouthful for him and the other. Waiting, squeezing his left hand with enough pressure to break it, he tries to give some time for the man to think.

The disbelief fades slightly, a warm quirk of his lips replacing it.

His hopes increase and his own face brightens. It's the first time the Colonel smiled at him like that.

"That's nice to know." The voice, one he craves to hear again and again is soft. "I like you too; you're… a good kid."

His hope falters slightly. Did the other misunderstand him? Was he not clear enough in his confession? Should he repeat it better this time?

"Even so, I can't return your feelings."

His smile _cracks_, piercing the hurt into his widened eyes.

"If I did I could lose all that I have worked to gain here, and I'm sorry but…"

He turns to leave, knowing in his heart that he doesn't want to hear what the other has to say. He knows the truth will hurt.

"… it's just not worth it."

_I'm not worth it_, his mind agrees gloomily. He heads straight to the place where he can find solace and some odd form of comfort.

Even though he still wishes that place could be in Mustang's arms.

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He was rash.

Leaving himself wide open to an attack on his chest, or allowing his opponent to streak behind him, or purposely forgetting his backup suit of armour at Headquarters.

He regrets it when the large knife pierces into his vulnerable body, squeezing between his ribs, past the muscle and tissue, puncturing his lung.

Brokenly, he falls to the pavement in a heap of spurting blood with a fractured arm attached.

The criminal, his mission to capture, courtesy of the ever understanding Furher Bradley, who gave him an assignment regardless of his histeria, turned tail and ran down the alleyway.

He smiles bitterly.

_People do crazy things when they're in love, _he supposes,_ and even crazier things when they're rejected._

It is raining.

--------------------

The boy walks into his office without a_ slam-crash-boom-bang _of yelling or cursing or all of the above. Full Metal appears meek and (dare he think it?) nervous.

He raises his head slowly, so as to look like he was working all along and not nodding off to dreamland. For some odd reason he cares what the other thinks of him.

When he fried a gun-armed terrorist in front of the new recruit and saw the absolute awe bursting forth on the childish face, he felt a twinge in his chest. Not unpleasant, but certainly an enigma as it occurred over and over again. Each time he merely saw the blond haired alchemist he felt a familiar twinge.

He would later realize that twinge was coming from his _heart_.

Out of curiosity he stares at the other across from him, analyzing him like a problem to be solved.

The gaze was averted to the floor.

"I… I like you, Mustang." The boy says strongly.

He can only gape.

_… Like? As in _friend_-like or _lover_-like_, he wonders.

"I **really** like you."

The other blushes and he ignores the thought of 'cute' beaming through his startled brain.

But… _like_?

He smiles slightly, not enough to scare the kid away, yet enough to acknowledge what was confessed. The young man likes him, and from that blush he knows it's **more**, rather than hates him as pretended all the time before. Strangely, he has never been happier.

"That's nice to know." He whispers thickly from the emotion he heard in the hopeful voice. "I like you too; you're… a good kid. Even so, I can't return your feelings."

He fails to notice the pain in the golden eyes he's come to love secretly gazing into.

"If I did I could lose all that I have worked to gain here, and I'm sorry but… it's just not worth it."

He doesn't hear his door close or see the other leave his presence.

"Elric, I can't afford to lose you as it is."

_And loving you would only make that more inevitable_, he adds silently with regret.

--------------------

He rushes out the entrance doors; desperately wanting to catch up to the blond before something stupid occurred. He knows that when the other is hurt, anger bleeds into rage and carelessness. He knows from Hawkeye's confirmation that the boy had taken a dangerous mission from Royal Bradley himself.

The second he looked up to appologize to the young man and found him gone he somehow knew it was his own fault.

Did he deal with the situation unkindly? Had the alchemist misunderstood? Should he have lied instead?

He is unsure.

In a darkened alleyway he bumps into a bulky man carrying something to his chest. It is not who he is searching for, so he pays no second glance. Until he sees the glint of silver from the man's left hand and the crimson stain _still_ dripping from the elongated tip.

Without question, confirmation or hesitance on his reason, he snaps his gloves to the criminals hunched back, watches the body fall to the ground and runs once the package of white powder falls with him.

A moment passes and he realizes that it is raining.

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**He found him.**

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'_Please don't be sad._

_You still have people… who'll protect you… grow with you… understand you… know everything about you… forgive you in a way that I cannot… and love you as I have._

_They're right beside you, even if you don't realize it.'_

His eyes fall eternally closed and he sees Roy's face overflowing with grim sadness and tears.

He **smiles**.

---------------------

'_I'm cruel._

_I know you would deny it, but I'll say it anyway._

_Killing you… was just a different way of leaving you._

_I couldn't connect with you._

_Failed to change your spirit._

_I couldn't confront the strength in you… was afraid of the fire in you… knowing I'd lose to the love in you…_

… _I killed you._

_I ended it.'_

Tears fall from his eyes as Edward smiles in his final moment.

He **cries**.

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People do crazy things when they're in love.

* * *

_AN: -.- In the beginning this was a much happier tale, and I have no idea how it morphed to an angst fest. It was inspired by listening to the song 'Memorial Address' (which I cried to when I first heard it), and would be from Roy's point of view. Please forgive the strange writing style. If you were confused, don't feel bad, I was too when writing it. I, like most writers, enjoy reading feedback._


End file.
